


Breathe Me

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Black Romance, Canon Queer Character of Color, Double Drabble, Emotionally Repressed, Insomnia, M/M, Sexual Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: For Chiron an idle brain is never a good thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> These lyrics were in my head as I wrote this:
> 
> Breathe Me - Sia
> 
> Help, I have done it again  
> I have been here many times before  
> Hurt myself again today  
> And the worst part is there's no one else to blame
> 
> Be my friend, hold me  
> Wrap me up, unfold me  
> I am small, I'm needy  
> Warm me up and breathe me
> 
> Ouch, I have lost myself again  
> Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found  
> Yeah, I think that I might break  
> Lost myself again and I feel unsafe
> 
> Be my friend, hold me  
> Wrap me up, unfold me  
> I am small, I'm needy  
> Warm me up and breathe me
> 
> Be my friend, hold me  
> Wrap me up, unfold me  
> I am small, I'm needy  
> Warm me up and breathe me

Inaction is the mother of evil. A one-way ticket to hell. It means standing still. It means death. Black knows this all too well. When he's running the corner, watching over Travis, making sure everyone stays cool and in line, he's completely present. He has to be. Take your eye off the streets and the streets take their eyes off you. It's that simple. Keep moving, keep watching and listening and you survive.

But... He's not acting right now. It's midnight and he can't sleep. His mama's voice is circling in his head. Her tone so needy, so hauntingly vulnerable. As if she really wants to see him. And she wasn't high when she called. Or at least she shouldn't have been. He still has a hard time figuring out how he feels about that. He knew the old her, the old fire in her veins. Knew how to handle it. How to keep away from the burn. She's almost as cold as ice now from rehab and he's actually afraid. Not that he'll hate her. That she'll smile or show some affection like she actually means it and he'll give in. Just like that.

Then there's Kevin. Sounding grown up. Nostalgic. Even curious. What is he supposed to do now? After all these years he was sure he'd pushed those memories of Kevin, of him and Kevin, too far down to ever rise up again. One phone call ten years later and he's right back where he started. Paralyzed by fear, by insecurity, by longing. He's already gotten out of bed once. Worked out. Watched television. Listened to some slow grooves. He shouldn't get up again. Exhaustion breeds more nightmares which only breeds more exhaustion. It's a vicious, never-ending cycle.

The thing is when he's not doing something he's thinking too much, remembering too much, and he can't stop. The first time Mama kicked him out of the apartment so she could entertain even though he knew what was really going on because Terrell and the other boys had no problem explaining, in graphic, spiteful detail, what the word entertain stood for. The warm tenderness of Kevin's hand on his confused, excited body. The marks Terrell and his boys began to leave behind.

Midnight. The witching hour when wolves are howling at the moon. He hears them calling to him. Wonders if they're getting tired yet. He isn't, and he needs the company.

 


End file.
